Not My Proudest Moment…
You know it’s bad when your mother hides your cell phone to keep you from drunk dialing your most-recently-snuffed-out-flame. But before we proceed with the events of Sunday night, I suppose I ought to finish up with Saturday.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was the text message I received from Date #17 on Saturday afternoon. Lest you think me the sort of woman who would resort to smashing candy canes with a hammer for no good reason, I was provoked.
A few hours earlier, having failed in my attempts to make sense of his convoluted voicemail, I found myself rapidly approaching the point of no return, by which I mean I no longer cared about salvaging our would-be relationship with rational behavior. Instead, I whipped out my phone and fired off a quick text:
I’m having a great hair day and I’ve shaved my legs. Are we on for tonight or not?
(And although I do sometimes exaggerate the ridiculousness of my correspondence for the sake of good blogging, this is not one of those times. Those were my exact words.)
The gist of his reply was as follows:
Hey Kat, I know that I asked you out for Saturday night, and I know you turned down an invite from one of your girlfriends to spend time with me, and I gather you’ve spent all morning shaving your legs, plucking your eyebrows and doing your hair—and that’s not including your 45 minutes of cardio at the gym so that you will continue to look hot in the unlikely event that I ever actually introduce you to anyone as my “girlfriend”— but here’s the thing: I’ve got this business trip coming up and I need to pack so this evening’s not really a good night for me. I suggest you take yourself to the local coffee shop and spend this cold winter’s eve alone and hating your life. I hear they have excellent chai lattes at Philadelphia Java Company…
Those weren’t his exact words (this time I am exaggerating), but they may as well have been because in addition to spending my Saturday night smashing candy canes, I did indeed head over to Philadelphia Java Company. There, I wasted the majority of my evening (and my chai latte) feeling sorry for myself and lamenting my love life (or lack thereof) to those Facebook friends unfortunate enough to find themselves in my wake.
After making a general nuisance of myself, I managed to put myself to bed before cruising the British Airways website for last minute holiday deals (yes, I’m still going through that phase where my solution to everything in life is a ticket to Heathrow). On Sunday night, however, I took a bit of a nose dive.
I had a few drinks. I wouldn’t say that I was drunk per se, but I may or may not have spent the entire ride home singing at the top of my lungs (Cee Lo really speaks to me these days). Upon my return to Casa Richter, I discovered an email from Date #17 in my inbox, prompted, presumably, by the rather despondent voicemail I’d left in response to the news of his “business trip.”
“Uh oh,” my dad said as I crept into the kitchen with my laptop. “What now?”
“An email!” I sobbed, throwing myself onto the couch (it’s not for nothing that I work in the arts). “An email from Date #17!”
It comprised mainly psycho-babble BS but that didn’t stop me from bawling my eyes out. Nor did it stop me from getting upset with myself for getting so upset in the first place, or— even worse— from threatening to call Date #17 right then and there to give him a piece of my mind.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I wailed. “I’m twenty five years old! I have a Masters degree! I should be above this!” (I may or may not have interjected the “F” word every few syllables.)
After a good sniffle, I finally managed to pull myself together. Taking a deep breath, I transferred the last of my mint chocolate Christmas trees from their candy molds to a storage container and announced to my parents, “I am going to bed now because I have disadvantaged children to teach in the morning!”
I’m not really sure how this was relevant but it made sense at the time and left me feeling, for whatever reason, somewhat vindicated.
It wasn’t until I slipped into my PJs that I realized my phone (which also serves as my alarm clock) was missing. Rather sheepishly, I crept downstairs and asked, “Umm… did one of you hide my phone?”
“Your mother,” my father replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s in the wine rack.”
Sure enough, beneath the bottles of Two Buck Chuck, lay my cell phone—my sad, silent little cell phone, in all of its single girl glory.
“Don’t worry,” I assured my dad. “I’m not going to call him. I’m just going to set my alarm and go to bed.”
But I didn’t go to bed. At least not straightaway. Instead, I made my way on over to Match.com, located my old profile and clicked “reactivate.”
24 Responses to “Not My Proudest Moment…”
For the record, its THREE buck Chuck, and your chauffeur was overly worried that you were going to call, so as usual your landlord took the matter in hand so HE wouldn’t worry…I knew you wouldn’t call 🙂 I know all about females and their dramatic venting, you were pretty funny though. 😉
You go girl, number 17 so missed the boat and will be, (or already is) a good story or the obscure answer to some future Kat’s dating life trivia game.
For the record, I understood the pronouncement “I have disadvantaged children to teach in the morning”. That made complete sense at the moment.
Lastly, I imagine “your public” is up for another round of dating.
Don’t worry. He’s clearly a jerk anyway, and it was very sweet of your mother to attempt to look out for you like that.
Commiserations, but at least it coming to a head leaves it more-or-less resolved. Silver linings and all that.
Consider transatlantic internet hugs offered.
Thanks, Sam 🙂
Let me take a swag at answering your question, “What the hell is wrong with me?”. Absolutely nothing! The more apropos question would be “what the hell is wrong with him?”. After all, this is the same guy who didn’t want to spend any time with you when you had the house all to yourself (begs the question, does he play for the other team?). Remember that most men are stupid. They don’t realize how good they have it till its gone. You deserve much better than Date #17, regardless of how handsome he may have been. Hang in there and don’t “settle” for anyone who doesn’t appreciate you.
Think you should rename this post to ‘not HIS proudest moment’. Kat, it’s rude to tell you to keep sat night (or any night) free and then not even bother to let you know plans are cancelled. You deserve better!
And that’s all we can do sometimes. Reactivate.
For what it’s worth, be upset if you have to. But don’t be upset that you’re a 25-year-old with a Masters who can still be reduced to a pile of emotional poop.
The last time I was a pile of emotional poop, my credentials were as follows: 1) thirty-mumblemumble years old, 2) MALE, 3) with a PhD.
Point being, we’ve all been there.
Oh, and by the way… how fucking long does it take a guy to pack, anyway?!? Fucking passive asshole.
Dennis, I have to remember not to read your comments while eating lunch. I nearly spit my soup all over my keyboard when I got to the part of about Date #17’s packing (in)abilities! Stop making me laugh! 🙂
Glad I could help. 😉
I had a guy, which it’s interesting, my first ever ‘boyfriend’ was from Match.com and he ALWAYS cancelled on me, always. I would go crazy and save my time to see him, he’d cancel at the last second, he wouldn’t call me, it was a mess. I was a mess. It took me 2 years to kick the boot to him, he was my 1st b/f, so I thought it was all me, but it wasn’t.
You deserve so much better, you deserve someone who will be there for you through good days and bad, and who couldn’t find a better place to be than being with you.
That’s terrible! I’m glad to hear that you finally gave him the boot though! And thanks for your encouragement 🙂
Loved your last sentence Dennis, I have traveled a lot for work in my adult life and packing is 20 mins top, plus if i am going to travel, that is all the more reason to cram in relationship time prior to departure.
My Brazilian friend… I concur, “do not settle for anyone who doesn’t appreciate you”.
Thanks, pops. (See, I got the names right this time.) 😉
The way I see it, if the guy says it’s going to take him all night to pack, he’s either 1) unbelievably spineless, or 2) unbelievably gay.
Either way, it’s not a good sign for Kat. 😦
Just me getting a little OCD vibe about #17?
Yeah, packing is twenty minutes top for me (fifteen minutes of which are usually spent looking for a ziploc bag for any liquids so I don’t get marched off into some TSA gulag) either last thing at night or first thing in the morning.
Co-sign with Brazilian – you deserve much better. You’re a great catch and there are lots of guys out there who’ll do a better job of realising that. Date #17 doesn’t sound ready to Date anyone – I think he should have his codename revoked and changed to Career-Obsessed-Guy #17! Some parts of his reply to your text were pretty shocking, exaggerated or not.
Sorry you went through all this, but I hope your return to Match brings someone better than any of the 17 previous guys!
My heart hurts for you.
It isn’t that you were crazy about this guy it just gets old thinking “this might just be a fun journey” and then nothing happens.
I am so sorry.
Read the Dating Optimist. I loved it!
Just checked out your blog, cute and the photos are fun too!
Hi Kat, sorry thing didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to. Sounds you like you have really great parents though who really care about you and know you well. That’s cool that they’re involved in your dating life (in a healthy way!)
As for date #17, sounds like an interesting specimen. Who knows what he’s going through. Probably nothing to take personally, though I understand the ill feelings (we’ve all been there or will be there again at some point).
I like your writing/stories and look forward to hearing about more adventures!
CLEARLY the men on match.com cannot be trusted. Or maybe it’s philly in general. I suggest you go back overseas and find someone there. Having never pursued my aspirations of studying abroad, I tend to think that everything(one) is better over there than everything(one) here.
At any rate, don’t despair! Most people in your boat at this time of life, and it stinks, but we move on. When it happens, it will happen, and when it’s right, it will be right. (And, no, that wasn’t taken from a fortune cookie.)
I once dated a guy who couldn’t spend the evening with me a week before I was leaving for London for the summer because he had to pack for a conference trip. I cried halfway across the Atlantic. On the other side of the pond I met Martin.
The rest, as they say, is history.
As Julian of Norwich famously said (albeit about a rather different subject) all will be well.
Word of the Day on this occasion in reference to Date #17 – NOOB or if this makes you feel any better – KNOBJOCKEY.
(I actually have been using these terms on too much of a regular basis recently)
There is no way in the world a man should have to take that long to pack.
PS – And thanks to you I am now addicted to reading what the very inciteful Dennis Hong has to say on a regular basis also 🙂
I really think you should rename this post to “Not HIS proudest moment”. Seriously, its one thing to cancel a date, its another thing to just ignore the other person until they “get the gist”. Next prospect!!
Boys are stupid. Keep trying! Keep dating!